


Overcome

by transgenji (archangelmason)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Piercings, Recovery, Suicide Attempt, hanzo is an alcoholic js, slow burn ?, the self harm scene is a lil explicit js
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelmason/pseuds/transgenji
Summary: Hanzo Shimada’s life began and ended with his bottle of sake. In the privacy of his small room at the Watchpoint, he let his world meltdown until it was just him and the current bottle. He’d start small, with one drink using his proper sake set and his masu. But, then the thoughts came bubbling up with the burn that hit the back of the throat, and he’d forgo the set and ceremony in favor of drinking straight from the bottle.





	1. Nightly Rituals

     Hanzo Shimada’s life began and ended with his bottle of sake. In the privacy of his small room at the Watchpoint, he let his world meltdown until it was just him and the current bottle. He’d start small, with one drink using his proper sake set and his masu. But, then the thoughts came bubbling up with the burn that hit the back of the throat, and he’d forgo the set and ceremony in favor of drinking straight from the bottle.  
     It was easy to fall into after the initial drink. He’d put the set away to clean and polish later, ever so particularly, but in that moment, all he cared about was reaching a state in which he didn’t feel consumed by the cold chill of guilt in his chest. It got harder and harder everyday, trying to reach the calm, relaxed state induced by his drink of choice. Always took a couple more sips each time to get there, but it wasn’t as if Hanzo minded. There were always more bottles of sake to be purchased, with family money still accumulating in his back account, and always more nights to be had.  
     He spent every night alone, just as he had for the past ten years. Though, there was certainly more alcohol than there used to be in his nightly rituals. When was it that he stopped using the masu for every drink, and not just the first? The answer eluded him and he let it go in favor of drinking the last drops of that night’s bottle.   
     He was warm, and that was all that mattered at night.   
-  
     The mornings were initially difficult, though Hanzo never let anyone see his own aftermath. He’d pull out his flask and take a hardy sip to help ease the hangover, before getting to work meticulously putting his room back together. The empty bottle is properly disposed off, the set is washed and polished, and he washes his face free of any tears that might have come to stain his cheeks during his long night. By the time he finished his morning ritual, eased by his handy flask, his headache was gone and he nearly felt human again.   
     Interacting with the other members of new Overwatch was hard and inevitable. There were small polite comments to be made, and he had some sort of image to keep up. He was the arrogant archer, and it was imperative that he played his role in the elaborate stage of Overwatch’s daily dramas.  
     The encounters that went beyond simple “Good morning”’s and “How are you?”’s were the hardest for him. When people had questions on their mission schedule, or if Hanzo had seen this person or that one, when Winston and the Soldier were briefing him on his roles and his vantage points for an upcoming mission. Hanzo had to sit through these encounters and pretend as if the chill hadn’t spread to his head and as if his own voices and that of the dragons in his skin weren’t eating him alive.  
     It left him exhausted. He had avoided unnecessary contact for years, never needed to know more than the name and the bounty from someone before he could blessedly leave to do his job. Now, surrounded by more people than he had properly interacted with in years, it was hard for him to navigate the social structures and find his place among the group of agents, old and new.  
     It was hardest with Overwatch’s old members. Those who had known Genji and were there to bear witness to the horrible things he had done to his brother. Had seen the slashes, the stabs, the loss of limbs, the blood, the flames, the flames, the flames.  
     Stop.   
     The dragons never stop, the dragons constantly remind him of how he let the flames consume himself and his brother. Remind him that the loss of his own legs will never even compare to the loss and damages he inflicted on his brother, on their counterpart dragon. Once they begin, they never stop and they grow louder and louder, yelling and snarling until it feels as if his head was going to explode and he weighed thousands of pounds, unable to move unable to speak unable to cry out for _help_ -  
     Stop.  
     Take a drink. And another, and another.  
     Feel the slight warmth running through his veins, just enough to quiet the dragons down a bit until they leave the forefront of his mind.  
     Where was he?  
     In the middle of a mission briefing. Winston, Reinhardt, Soldier, McCree, Tracer, and Dr. Ziegler sat at the conference table around him, chatting back and forth while looking over a map of their next mission, on Ilios.   
     His flask was half empty. He was going to finish it by the end of the briefing, that much was certain.   
     McCree was looking at him. Why was he looking at him?  
     He’s probably remembering what Genji was like, probably thinking about how you inflicted so much pain and death upon your own kin, your own brother. He’s probably thinking about how Genji used to throw himself into harms way on purpose, used to pull out his wires and attempt to destroy the “omnic” body he’d been forced into after Hanzo _murdered him._   
     Hanzo cannot hold that stare for any longer, looking away under the pretense of looking at the map. He doesn’t know why they plan these things out to such detail. He used to pride in these meetings, used to participate. Until he had been on the ground with these people and found out that no matter how much they planned, it was going to be hell on the ground and all of Hanzo’s carefully laid plans were abandoned in favor of his team winging it.   
     He takes another long drink, and lets himself drift off to let the warmth spread through his body, slowly, systematically.  
     After the meeting is dismissed, McCree is still looking at him. He might be in the middle of a conversation with the good doctor and the crusader, but he is most certainly looking at Hanzo. It’s unnerving, and Hanzo reaches for his flask to find it empty.  
     He’ll have to refill it when he gets back to his room. He was going to hit up the target range for a couple of hours, practice and hone his skills some more before the meeting, but he’ll go to his room first. There’s no way he would be able to go to the practice range practically sober.   
     McCree tries to catch him on his way out but gets interrupted by a Tracer blinking right in front of him. Quietly, Hanzo is grateful because he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to stand under the cowboy’s critical gaze any longer. His fingernails bite into his palm, hands curled nervously as he made his way back to his room.  
     There’s nothing more satisfying than opening up a fresh bottle of sake. He steals a quick drink straight from the bottle, to calm his nerves, before pouring some into his flask. He grabs stormbow and heads out.   
     There were multiple firing ranges in the old watchpoint, but when restoring the Watchpoint to functionality, many of them were abandoned. Hanzo has picked one out for his own, customizing it to his own practice needs and his preferences. Targets were at various angles and distances, perfect for the archer to practice and even lose himself to the feeling of nocking an arrow, pulling the tight bowstring, and hearing the satisfying _Thunk_ when it hit the desired target.  
     He was just getting ready to aim an arrow when the doors of the practice range squeaked open, startling him. He released the arrow, wincing at the sound of the arrow clanking against the ground, just short of the target. He turned, shocked to see the gunslinger himself at the doorway.   
     “I didn’t know anyone else came down here,” Hanzo murmured, as an apology for occupying the space. “If you’d like to practice, I can gather my arrows in a moment-”  
     The cowboy didn’t let him finish. “I came down here to talk to ya’, darlin’.” He approached slowly, almost as if he was certain that Hanzo would be scared off and run to escape. “Everyone’s getting together tonight to watch some movies in the common room. Lucio’s idea. The kid seems real excited ‘bout gettin’ us all together, somethin’ about team bonding. Basically, I wanted to extend his invitation to ya’,” McCree explained, coming to a stop about four feet away from Hanzo, ever so hesitant.   
     But it wasn’t just about the movie night, was it? No, this had to be tied into the looks of concern McCree shot at him during the meeting. So the gunslinger was worried about him, probably because Hanzo had spent every night in his room in the four months since Genji took the extended mission. Worrying is bad. Worrying means that McCree cares about him maybe even slightly, might even come to check on him sometime. Worry leads to someone finding out about his nightly rituals and thinking that it’s time to put a stop to the one thing that keeps Hanzo Shimada alive.  
     So, Hanzo smiles at him as best as he could muster, as if he was truly excited to hear about this invitation. “I’ll attend, then, if it means that much to him. I’ll just need to shower first. The common room…Is that the room that is next to the kitchen?” He hadn’t ever been in that room. Never had the desire to enter it, considering that there was always a minimum of four people in it during their down time. Too many people. How many people did “everyone” entail? How many people would look at Hanzo, the archer, the cold blooded murderer, the kin slayer, the brother kill-  
     “Yeah, that would be the one. If you’d like to help set up, come by around eighteen hundred. We’ll be making snacks, setting up the couches with pillows n’ stuff. It’ll be nice.”   
     Hanzo found himself nodding, and his lips quirk up into another faux smile. “I look forward to it.”  
     McCree gives him a hard look, as if he could see right through the facade that Hanzo was trying so hard to keep up. He sighed after a moment, and tilted his hat up a bit so he could look Hanzo in the eyes properly. “You know, just ‘cause Genji isn’t here doesn’t mean that you’re all alone. Sure, bunch o’ us disliked you in the beginning because we knew what Genji was like, ‘fore the fall and all. But if Genji can forgive you, the rest of us can too. Nobody hates you here, Hanzo. Don’t be a stranger to us.” He didn’t let Hanzo respond, turning on his heels and marching out of the room with his spurs jingling.  
     Hanzo thought it would be easier if he was just dead, at that exact moment. He found himself pulling the arrows out from the targets mechanically, thinking about how much effort it would take to keep up a facade for an entire night. He certainly wouldn’t do it sober, couldn’t afford for the dragons to start speaking up when surrounded by their whole team.  
     It was going to be a long night.  
-  
     He grabbed the bottle directly, after his shower. Another fresh one. How many did that make this week? Five or six? Probably. Taking a hefty swig, he leaned against his bed frame. God, he was hardly even presentable. McCree hadn’t really mentioned any kind of dress code for such a gathering, so Hanzo had donned his sweatpants and a comfortable t-shirt. However, it wasn’t his clothes that were dragging his look down. His hair wasn’t really cooperating after his shower, and his eyes looked empty when he had checked himself briefly in the mirror. It was rare for him to spend more than just a glance in the mirror, to notice something like that, but it seemed jarring how dull they looked compared to what they used to look like.  
     Why did he agree to go, anyways? What would they get out of having him sitting there between all of the heroes of their team? Nothing, they’d probably be uncomfortable having a murder in the room. A kill- He cut himself off a bit earlier than usual on the dragon’s usual phrase by taking another long drink.  
Leaning against the bed became sitting at the foot of it, going between trying to tame in his hair and taking easy sips of the alcohol to fill the time. What did that clock say? Ah, it didn’t matter. He still had plenty of time til he had to be in the common room.  
     And so time passed.   
     And the amount of sake in the battle got steadily lower until it was empty. Which absolutely wouldn’t do, because he was hardly feeling that lovely warmth going through his body. He got up, attempting to shuffle his way towards the closet that he kept both the empty and the full bottles of sake in, the ones he had shipped in by the crate without the knowledge of Dr. Ziegler or Winston. He tried to put the bottle down gently. He did. But it seemed like it was too far from the ground when he released it from his fingers, hitting the tile of the closet harshly and cracking itself open.   
     “Damn,” He muttered, leaning over to pick up the shattered pieces of glass. His balance wasn’t quite what it was when he was sober, and he found himself falling into the bottles. He grimaced as he felt some of the glass cut into his hands and knees, knowing it would be pretty hard to explain at a later date.   
     The dragons began to speak up again, blue beginning to rise up from the points of his cuts. He could see their strong blue running through his veins, could feel their power come up through him.   
     “Kinslayer,” Ryuu hissed out, rising up from his left wrist.  
     “Brother killer,” Tatsuo added, coming up from the right. “You killed your own kin because you were too weak to see the clan was controlling you,” He hissed, urging Hanzo’s hands downwards to grab one of the pieces of glass.   
     “It’s only a matter of time before before he realizes you are beyond redemption,” Ryuu added helpfully, staring up at Hanzo with his glowing eyes.   
     “Before he comes to kill you, give you the end you deserve after what you did to him,” Tatsuo finished, pushing the hand down til the glass shard was pressed up against Hanzo’s left wrist.   
     “Don’t give him the opportunity to. Do it yourself and you’ll be free, Hanzo,” They spoke in unison this time and Hanzo found himself unable to deny their logic.   
     He didn’t think it smart to deny the wise dragons, even though their advice seemed as sound as it was scary. He pressed his hand down on his own wrist, the pain of the shard of glass cutting in deep dulled by the warm lull from the sake.  
     The dragons seemed to grin and laugh, curling around each other as they watched the blood begin to drip down from his wrists onto the floor. The only light with which Hanzo could see his arm in was the illumination from the dragons, from those wise spirits as he began to bleed out.   
      _Bang, bang, bang_ at his door, startling Hanzo even in his drunken haze. “Leave, I do not wish to be bothered,” He slurred out, his head turning towards the open door of the closet as the room door was opened anyways. “I said leave, the dragon does not wish to be disturbed,” He repeated, realizing that the blood was beginning to flow much faster now.   
     “Hanzo, what the are you doing in the closet? Why didn’t you come to the common room?” McCree’s voice steadily coming closer.   
     Shit, that was not good, was it? The dragon spirits were hissing, growing larger as they threatened to take away the last of Hanzo’s strength.  
     “Hanzo!” McCree gaped, looking between the curling angry dragon spirits looming in the closet space to Hanzo’s wrist wound. “Hanzo,” He repeated, moving past Ryuu and Tatsuo to pull Hanzo into his arms.   
     “Ang’, get to your clinic. Hanzo’s injured, looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. Seems self-inflicted, thinkin’ he’s drunk off his ass.” McCree huffed out into his com, shifting Hanzo in his arms so he could move faster towards the medbay.  
     Hanzo’s vision was getting steadily permeated by black dots, the sight of McCree getting blurrier and blurrier until everything was black.  
     “Hanzo, stay with me, darlin’...”


	2. Aftermath

     The first thing he could register was a vague aching in his wrist and hands as he came to consciousness. The ache was neatly dulled, like he had been doused with some sort of painkiller. His hangover seemed to be almost pleasant in comparison to the insistent ache in his wrist, but he reached for his flask anyway.  
     Only to find the railing of what appeared to be a medical bed. That startled him, and his mind struggled to register where he could be. After ten years on the road waking up in various hotels and broken into cabins along the way, it was a total shock to be in a hospital of any sort. He could hear faint talking in the distance, perhaps in a nearby hallway or room.  
     Rather than panicking, he found some sort of detached curiosity instead and pried his heavy lids open. To his right, Jesse McCree was sprawled across a comfy looking recliner with his hat over his face and his serape draped across his chest. He looked to his left and caught sight of his heavily bandaged wrist.  
     Oh.  
     That’s right.  
     He had given in to the whims of the dragons again, just as he had years ago in the months after he killed Genji. He hadn’t been able to find any reason not to listen to them, not back then and not the night before.  
     They were suspiciously quiet, more than they had been since before his heinous act. Maybe it was the painkillers suppressing their voices or tapping their energy. He had avoided painkillers of any kind since then, as some sort of self punishment, to suffer through any sort of pain.  
     It was pleasant, actually. To have his head to himself for once.  
     He looked off towards the direction of the voices, focusing on the sound until the ambient noises dropped to the back of his mind. Soldier and Winston, their impromptu Commanders, were talking with some electronic sounding voice. An omnic, perhaps?  
     The thought disgusted him, thinking about the prospects of Overwatch gaining another omnic member than that Bastion unit.  
     Shortly thereafter the voice changed, into someone who he could recognize immediately. Genji was on a commlink with Soldier and Winston. There was no coincidence to be had: they were certainly calling to tell Genji about Hanzo’s most recent failed attempt at suicide. Hanzo could hear the disappointment in his voice from here, could tell that Genji probably wanted to come here and finish him off.  
      **Beep, beep, beep.** The ambient noise he had been ignoring came back to him, the machine he had been hooked up to beeping insistently as his heart rate went up. He was panicking. Of course, he was, every time he thought of Genji he panicked. He was so terrified but willing. More than willing to let Genji slaughter him and end his life because it was all he deserved, deserved to die to atone for his awful sins.  
     He wanted to die, he should die, he needed to die, why hadn’t he succeeded? These thoughts plagued him, weighed him down and kept him pinned to the medical bed as Genji’s voice continued to play in the background, an ever imposing threat.  
     He let out a pathetic whimper that he regretted nearly immediately, his hands fisting into the bedsheets as he tried desperately to calm himself down. It wasn’t enough, and his rising terror was enough to wake McCree up at his bedside.  
     “Hanzo?” McCree asked groggily, looking up and putting his hat onto the recliner next to him. “Hanzo, what’s wrong?” He asked, pressing a button on the side of his comm when he thought that Hanzo might not see it.  
     “Genji...He must despise me, mustn’t he? I’ve done so many awful things in my life, and there is no possible way he could forgive me. It must be a trap,” Hanzo rasped out, staring blearily ahead as he tried to blink away his panicked tears. “He must want me dead just as much as I’d like to be. He has every right to it, but I fear it nonetheless,” He finished, reaching up with his right hand to wipe away the tears furiously.  
     “Oh, darlin’, that’s not true...Genji forgives you. He knows that you had no other choice, that you were bein’ controlled by the clan.” McCree explains, reaching out to put a hand on Hanzo’s.  
     “That is incorrect. I was his older brother, his last of kin. I should have died before I let anything happen to him, let alone pick up a sword myself.” He responded, eyes on McCree’s hand over his own critically. The usually ever so composed archer was unsure of what to do in this situation. He recognized that he should calm down before Dr. Ziegler arrived to check on him, and that McCree was offering a means of easy comfort. But what did it all mean?  
     He concluded that McCree’s concerns and feelings were a problem to handle at a later date when he wasn’t panicking, turning his hand over so he could interlock his fingers with the cowboy’s. The palm was warm against his own, and the reassuring squeeze of those thick fingers was enough for Hanzo to relax again.  
     When was the last time Hanzo allowed himself to receive any sort of comfort or affection? It had to be years and years past by now. He heard the heart rate monitor slow and slow until it was at a reasonable rate, and he had a hard time pulling his eyes away from McCree’s, a sharp contrast to how he had been avoiding those warm eyes for months.  
     McCree broke the eye contact first. He looked away and used his robotic arm to hand Hanzo a knit tote bag that had been filled with small notes and cards. “I told ya’ that everyone forgave you for what you did. Everyone’s been worried sick about you’, darl’, scared to death that we’d lose you.”  
      Hanzo blinked in surprise, seeing a large variety of handmade cards and small gifts to make his time in the infirmary a bit less awful, such as a bag of sweets addressed from Lucio and Hana. “Oh…That was very kind of all of you,” He whispered, putting the bag down at the end of the bed. “I’ll read and sort through them later,” He decided, turning back to face McCree just as Dr. Ziegler herself entered the room.  
She didn’t look like she’d slept much, and Hanzo realized that it was likely his fault for keeping her from her room during the night as she worked to keep him alive. A bitter wave of guilt came over him, making his stomach churn and his chest feel cold as she approached him with one of her signature smiles.  
     Hanzo grounded himself in the easy feeling of McCree’s palm against his, closing his eyes until he felt the warmth spread through him again. When he looked up, Dr. Ziegler was smiling patiently.  
     “Mr. Shimada, would you like me to ask Jesse to leave while I talk about your condition?” She asked gently, no doubt aware of Hanzo’s deep privacy and discomfort around others in general since that had been reflected in his behavior since he arrived at the Watchpoint.  
     He looked at McCree, trying to weigh his options. He needed McCree for his own comfort, but he didn’t need McCree aware of every detail of the lie he was no doubt going to have to tell the good Doctor. “I’d like him to step out, yes. Just for this conversation.” He squeezed McCree’s hand, more for his benefit than the other’s, and smiled at him gently. “Thank you,” He added, watching as McCree stood and left the medical bay in favor of standing in the hallway, just out of earshot.  
     “Mr. Shimada, when you came in I was quite alarmed by the severity of your wound, as well as a large amount of alcohol in your system once I administered a couple of tests. But perhaps the most worrying thing I saw was the number of other seemingly self-inflicted scars on that same wrist.” She began, and Hanzo winced.  
     “Uh...Yes, those...I feel like I must explain myself, then. In the months after I broke the clan’s intense brainwashing, I fell into a terrible depression. The dragons, I’m not sure if my brother ever spoke of this to you, they speak to us. My dragons were unbearable at the time, and so I often used bloodletting as a way to block out their intense voices. When I consume alcohol, sometimes they get too loud and unbearable. But, by no means am I suicidal.” He concluded, ensuring that he didn’t use too much eye contact or create an entirely untrue lie. The more parts of it that were truthful, the easier it would be to uphold.  
     “I see...Perhaps at a later time, you could come in and we can see if we could find different, less destructive method for you to cope with the voices of your...dragons. Now, for the protocols... Given the amount in your system and the severity of your self-inflicted wound, I am bound by obligations to put you on suicide watch.” She sighed, and looked at Hanzo with a type of sympathy that had his blood boiling, privately.  
     “We have had situations in the past after members of a team had been killed in action, and the effects on their teammates were extremely detrimental to their mental health. Since then, this protocol has been put into place and I am bound by law and policy to uphold it. You must understand. You will be put on total probation from the shooting range and all missions for the next ninety days.”  
     “No! You cannot do that to me, simply because I had one, single drunken night!” His heart rate is increasing, and he can tell that his shout caught McCree’s attention. “You don’t understand, the missions are the only thing I have left. I came to Overwatch to have a purpose to my life again, to fight for the side of this war I believed in because Genji told me to. I cannot go back to a life without purpose, Dr. Ziegler.” He begged, but there was something in her face that made it seem as if she wasn’t going to give in to his pleas.  
     “There is nothing I can do about it. You and I will have weekly meetings here in the medbay. For now, I need you to spend a couple of days here while I monitor your recovery and behavior.” Her tone left no room for argument and soon she was rising to her feet and motioning for McCree to return.  
      His chest felt empty and cold once more, with the sudden knowledge that his single way of passing the time while Genji was away had been taken to him. Forced from his fingertips by one night of bad decisions and the influence of dragons that had hated him for ten years.  
      McCree made his way over to him and reclaimed his seat on the recliner that seemed so out of place in the pristine medbay. “She laid down the law, huh?” He asked, reaching for his cigar to place it between his lips so he could have something to chew on while he thought of his next words. “I’m real’ sorry about that, hun. She was stressin’ about all night, while you were getting the blood transfusions. But, she doesn’t realize that you aren’t just strugglin’ with all that other crap with those scary dragons I saw las’ night. Nobody realizes how hard alcoholism can be.”  
      Hanzo froze, his entire body going cold and his shoulders curling forward. The one word he refused to think of, for ten whole years, spoken as if it should hold no weight in this world. The Big Bad, sliding from the cowboy’s lips easy as the rain falls and cherry blossoms bloom.  
     He had to sit there and pretend as if the cowboy hadn’t just shot through the narrow glass encapsulating Hanzo’s entire world.  
      It took him a couple of minutes to speak, the entire bay silent as the cowboy gave him the time to process the entire presented situation.  
     “I am not an alcoholic. It was simply one night of very poor decisions, and too much alcohol.” He responded eventually, but he could tell that McCree didn’t believe him for a single second.  
     “Hanzo, I saw the bottles. There had to be what...Forty empty ones next to a half case of full ones? I know when your cases come in, I know they come in once every three months. It’s only been a month and two weeks since that case arrived. Do the math and you know that I’m right. I don’t play dumb, Hanzo.” McCree responded and Hanzo was speechless.  
      How had he not realized that McCree was knowledgeable about his shipments? Had Genji tasked him with keeping an eye on him while he was away? How long had McCree known?  
      Before his mind could continue to torment him, McCree spoke up once more. “I know alcoholism is tough. I’ve seen it destroy my mentor, struggled with it myself after what happened in Zurich. It’s hard, but Hanzo, you can let me and the others help you.”  
      Hanzo looked up, and he was met with a warm sincerity that he hadn’t thought himself worthy of in years. “Okay…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery is not as short and sweet as Hanzo would like. It will get worse before it gets better. 
> 
> Don't forget to comment and help motivate me for the next chapter!


	3. Change

      When the news about probation had dropped, Hanzo had initially been devastated. It seemed as if Dr. Ziegler intended to single-handedly destroy Hanzo’s world by taking away the one good thing Hanzo had remaining.  
      But in practice, the probation was not as bad as he had been expecting. He still had routines and rituals throughout his day, but they were new ones geared towards occupying his time, boosting his overall social skills, and working towards improving his mental health.  
      In the mornings when Hanzo would have formally been passed out in a drunken stupor, he was now taking the time to find a new spot to meditate and watch the rising sun. He had stopped meditating when he left the clan, finding it impossible to reach that gentle state of mindful thoughtlessness. Now, it seemed to come to him naturally, just as the sunrise rose in the east.  
      When he had his fill of meditation and sunshine, he would return to the watchpoint to assist in making breakfast for a lot of heroes. The breakfast shift often found itself as Reinhardt making bacon, Torbjorn on pancakes, and leaving Hanzo making eggs according to the recipe Reinhardt had taught him the first morning he volunteered for this shift.It was mostly the other two men chatting back and forth pleasantly, sometimes about letters from Torbjorn’s children and others about various pieces of news or history. Hanzo found it easier to be a room with them since they never really expected Hanzo to add to the conversation but were joyed when he did.  
     Breakfast was spent sitting with McCree and Lena, talking about the latest news from London, namely a bigger attempt to stop the anti-omnic violence the city faced, or about any events happening in the Watchpoint, such as Lena’s girlfriend, Emily, coming for a quick visit.  
      self doubtIt was a pleasant existence, even though any slightly awkward situation or a misspoken word on Hanzo’s part would send red hot flashes of negatself-doubt flying through his head and cause him to reach for a flash he no longer carried. But, it was safe to say that with the assistance of McCree, he was managing.  
     Right. McCree. He spent hours with him every day, not only because he assisted in keeping Hanzo on the track to being sober, but because his presence kept the dragons mostly quiet. It seemed as if Hanzo’s dragons were almost fearful of the cowboy, had been ever since McCree stared them down and still chose to save Hanzo’s life despite their ever imposing threat.  
      As long as McCree was near enough by, the dragons would stay silent save for a couple of quips here and there if Hanzo made any sort of mistake. But, since he was not constantly fighting those spirits, Hanzo had the energy needed to try and socialize with the rest of the team. He hadn’t exactly perfected it, by any means. He was well used to exercising his right to excuse himself from a conversation whenever he was feeling too overwhelmed.  
      But this time, it was certainly going to require more effort than he had put into the other interactions he had dictated in the week since he had been released from the medbay. It was time to thank Lucio and Hana for the sweets they had given him in the medbay. The conversation was going fine, and Hanzo was really quite proud that he had made it this far.  
     That was, until they hit him with a ruthless one-two combo.  
     Lucio hugged him, telling him how he was _totally going to send him a song for his morning meditations because it really helped with relaxation_ , and Hanzo’s heart skipped a beat because wow wasn’t that really sweet? The youngest two members of Overwatch were so considerate and that was just really kind and _how was he possibly going to respond_ \- And he was promptly cut off from his state of shock by Hana singing, “We think you’re really cool! Maybe you could join us for game night tomorrow?” And that was it for Hanzo.  
     They were just so nice and so good and Hanzo didn’t deserve their kindness. He was a wreck, a suicidal mess, an alcoholic-  
     He choked out some kind of excuse and removed himself from the situation before he could dive any deeper into a sudden bout of self-hatred. Just like Dr. Ziegler had taught him. He waited until he was around the corner before he was running down to the door of the practice range, the one he was forbidden to enter.  
     He had enough foresight to send a quick SOS to McCree through the comlink before he was sliding through the pages of applications and pulling up the guided meditation application the good Doctor had suggested for him. He sat in the corner, and watched the hologram guide his breathing with counts of seven seconds inhaling and eleven seconds exhaling.  
     How long did he sit there, watching that animation on the hologram? He couldn’t tell, but when he finally felt capable of taking his eyes from it, he realized McCree was sitting just a couple of feet from him, chewing on the end of his cigar and looking relatively concerned. He must have been there a while, since he looked comfortably seated against the door of the practice range.  
     “What happened?” McCree asked gently, not even attempting to make eye contact in case it would be too much too soon and send Hanzo back into a panic attack.  
     “Lucio and Hana were being too nice. I wasn’t ready for them to be that kind to me, and then they invited me to their game night,” Hanzo murmured, reaching up to fix his hair slightly. He was long overdue for a haircut. He’d have to get to that, on their next trip to the city.  
     “But you came over here, and calmed down on your own,” McCree added, and there was a smile on his face again.  
     He did calm himself down, huh? Unlike the rest of the past week, he hadn’t needed McCree there to pull himself from a panic attack. It was progress.  
\---  
      The trip through the city of Gibraltar is eye-opening, to say the least. Hanzo is more observant on this trip than he had been in the past, and he sees so many things he finds interesting. The piercings on one tourist they pass while grocery shopping for specific items that cannot be ordered in bulk to the Watchpoint. The hair bun on another while McCree is paying for their items.  
      He isn’t exactly allowed by Dr. Ziegler to go wandering off into the city on his own, but he knows what he wants to do. It takes a couple minutes of thinking of how to phrase his next words as McCree starts to direct them back to the boat that would return them to the Watchpoint.  
     “I want to have a makeover.” He ends up blurting as they arrive at the ferry boat. McCree looks up at him, gives him a hard look because honestly, he probably should have mentioned this while they were still in the heart of the city, but fine, he can’t deny that since they really only make these trips out here twice a month and it would be cruel to make Hanzo wait and be unhappy.  
     They drop off the supplies and make their way back into the city.  
     The first order of business was getting a haircut. The heat in the city is unbearable and Hanzo is more than excited to feel the wind going through the freshly buzzed sides and back of his head. The undercut is more practical than his former haircut...Not to mention, Hanzo hadn’t had his hair cut this short since he was just a child and that alone was exhilarating.  
     He wasn’t the same man he used to be. Who was going to stop him from looking the way he wanted to? He didn’t have a tradition to uphold, didn’t have a clan to please. He couldn’t stop from rubbing the back of his head on the way to the nearby tattoo and piercing parlor. It felt so good against his fingertips, providing that bit of stimulus that kept his head grounded as they walked.  
     “You look happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen.” McCree commented as they walked into the shop.  
     “I was never able to change my appearance in a way I wanted. The appearance of the head of the clan was imperative, and so I never got to do anything like this. It feels good to change.”  
      The actual process of the bridge piercing was horrifying to think about. Obviously, Hanzo had suffered greater injuries, but...How does one cope with the idea that there is going to be a piercing rod shoved through the loose skin above his nose?  
      Let’s just say, McCree stepped out for that one.  
      Hanzo paid a thousand credits for the job to get done, with instructions for how to care for it and a number to call for any questions after it was finished.  
     “It wasn’t that bad,” He admitted to McCree after he stepped into the main room of the parlor. “We’ve both been through worst pain, but it is more about worrying about the pain before it happens.” He explained, weaving his arm through McCree’s so the man could lead him back to the ferry.  
      He had enough of a change for that night, but he had a feeling he’d be back to that parlor soon for other piercings he had been secretly wanting since he was a teenager who never got to go through his rebellious phase.  
      The ferry ride back was pleasant, even if there was still a bit of stinging on his nose because he got to think about all the different ways the other teammates might react to this sudden change.  
      McCree came to sit by him when they were halfway to the Watchpoint.  
     “Thank you for taking me to the parlor, and all of this,” Hanzo murmured, turning to look at him.  
     McCree lit his cigar and smiled at him. “You shouldn’t have ta’ thank me. You’re a grown man who made a mistake, not a child who needs to be escorted around. Thank you for letting me accompany you through this change, really.”  
     That comment made Hanzo smile, and he leaned forward to place a shy kiss against McCree’s cheek in a way that had the cowboy blushing. “It was my pleasure,” He added and leaned himself against the cowboy’s shoulder as the sun went down.  
\---  
     When Hanzo had agreed to let Jesse help him, the man had done a sweep through the man’s bedroom and taken every bit of alcohol he could get his hands on and canceled Hanzo’s recurring order for cases of sake. The thing was...He had missed a couple bottles that Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to get rid of. They had been stashed away in the guitar case that Hanzo used to carry stormbow around while traveling.  
     The physical withdrawals were starting to set in when Hanzo returned to the Watchpoint, and well...For all the good Jesse and Dr. Ziegler had done in the two weeks since the incident, it wasn’t exactly enough to stop Hanzo from wanting to stop the tremors in his hands and nausea he felt.  
     He limited himself to half a masu when he arrived, knowing that if he overdid it, he’d end up getting caught. Besides, he wanted things to change, right? This was just to delay the symptoms of withdrawals for another night, til he was more equipped to handle it.  
     The half a masu didn’t last nearly as long as he wanted it to, but the tremors subsided in a few minutes and Hanzo forced himself to put the bottle away. He needed to talk to Dr. Ziegler about withdrawal in the morning, couldn’t let this fall into a habit.  
\---  
     When he came back from his morning meditation, heading to the kitchen, he was surprised to hear a lot of commotion coming from the main entry way and to find the hallways suspiciously empty.  
     What was happening? They hadn’t had this kind of commotion since Hana showed up to enlist in the recently legalized Overwatch.  
     He headed to the main entrance, looking through to see an omnic standing there...Or rather, hovering. He winced again, before reminding himself of his resolution for change. Not all of them were bad, and in this day and age, the vast majority were genuinely good. Remember that, Hanzo, remember.  
     He was interrupted from his thinking by a voice that sent a tremor down his spine and fear straight through his heart.  
     Genji had returned from his mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff and some explanations in this chapter.


	4. Talking

      Genji, Genji, Genji. His brother. The one he killed, he murdered in cold blood because he had allowed himself to get too caught up in clan politics. He was here, and he was looking at Hanzo, and Hanzo could just imagine the narrowed eyes that were hiding under that visor.  
      Genji, who was probably disappointed in Hanzo’s recent failed attempt at killing himself. Who had probably heard about his alcoholism by McCree, his best friend for years after all. Genji who was probably just luring him into a sense of security and safety around him, the same way he had felt around Hanzo when Hanzo had plunged a sword into his brother’s stomach, so he can do the same to Hanzo to get the revenge that was rightfully his.  
     He seemed to have gone unnoticed by the others, but the visage of Genji’s mask was unnerving when it was facing directly at him. The same panic Hanzo had been suppressing since that first morning in the medbay was rising in him, and his chest felt so tight that he could hardly inhale.  
     The dragons were crawling from his skin, taking to the air around him. It was then that the others realized he was there. McCree was particularly shocked, looking between the writhing, angry dragons that seemed to be terrorizing Hanzo, and the man himself who looked so scared that he might pass out.  
     “Tsk,” Genji chastised, moving through the crowd of their teammates to approach Hanzo and the dragons. “Ryuu, Tatsuo, will you leave him alone? He might not have the power to keep you two in line, but I will not hesitate to put you in your place,” He threatened, glaring down the dragons until they sank back into Hanzo’s skin.  
     Hanzo was still pinned in place with his fear, but with the dragons gone, it gave the others the freedom to approach him. McCree was the next to come, but rather than reaching for the man who had been his lifeline for the past week, Hanzo is forced to take a step back. Genji was so close, so tall now with his enhancements and Hanzo’s own poor posture. Intimidating with the way Hanzo can now see his own terrified expression in the reflection on that finely polished armor.  
     Genji seems as if he is going to speak again but he is cut off by an omnic voice at the doorway. “Genji, I think it is advisable that you give your brother some space.” It chimed, and hurled one of the orbs that had been floating around its neck at Hanzo.  
     He had a small moment of intense panic before it started glowing a soft gold, and an unmistakeable sense of peace washed over him. He finally was able to inhale properly, and the panic was slowly washing away.  
     “Oh, what’s that?” Hana chimed from the doorway, standing next to the floating omnic.  
     “It is my orb of harmony. It allows the body and the mind to reach a state of peace and agreement with each other, so it is useful for situations like this.” The omnic responded, in an incredibly wise and knowing tone that would have normally made Hanzo uncomfortable.  
     Right, remember what the good Doctor told him. Hating omnics would get him nowhere, he had to learn to accept them as they are rather than for the sins of the past.  
     He looked back at Genji, still quite unsure what he should say in this situation. His mind was simply drawing up blanks, considering he had been in the middle of a panic attack just at the sight of his brother.  
     “Come, Hanzo. We have much to discuss, but only after some tea and meditation.” Genji said finally, leading him towards the kitchens with a kind of confidence that reminded Hanzo of their father.  
     This was not the Genji Hanzo had once known. Gone was the brother who pretended to meditate with Hanzo and their father in the mornings, gone was the one who would sneak out at night passed their hired guards to meet up with his friends to go to parties. The Genji who used to come to Hanzo’s room and give Hanzo those tantalizing bits of information about what life outside of the clan was like.  
     This Genji was older, more mature and wiser. He hadn’t been able to learn much during their brief meetings of late, but he was surprised to see just how much the time had changed both of them.  
      He simply followed, and the rest of the crowd seemed more than happy to let the two brothers have their space.  
\--

     The tea Genji made was surprisingly pleasant smelling. He had pulled out a box of leaves from the back of one of the cabinets, and a traditional tea set that Hanzo had never seen in the kitchen before. Rather than set up and drink together in the kitchen, Genji was taking the tray outside.  
     “We’re going to my favorite spot. I’ve never brought anyone up here, but I’d like to share it with you, brother,” Genji confided, and was soon leading Hanzo to one of the taller rooftops overlooking the ocean. With a bit of maneuvering, they were both comfortably seated with glasses of tea between them.  
     Hanzo was still not ready for when Genji removed his mask, revealing his heavily scarred but still mostly human face once more. “I cannot eat, but I am able to drink. I’ve found that tea is one of the few things that reminds me I am still human,” Genji confessed, taking a sip of the still piping hot liquid.  
     “It is nice that there is still one pleasure of humanity you might enjoy,” Hanzo responded, guarded, and cradled the cup within his hands to feel its comforting warmth.  
     Genji let out a pleasant hum and placed the cup down. He looked over the horizon for a few moments before looking back at his brother. His eyes seemed sad, and for some reason, that made Hanzo uncomfortable once more. “Why are you so scared of me, brother? I have done nothing to you, and I have no intention of harming you. I told you, I forgave you long ago.”  
     Hanzo winced, and looked down at his cup. “It is not a matter of whether my rational mind believes that statement or not, Genji. The dragons do not believe that I could kill my brother...Or at least try to, and not expect your retaliation. Then…” Hanzo paused, and took a sip before looking up at his brother.  
     “I am not...I have a mental illness, Genji. Years under the control of the clan, years after dodging their soldiers and picking up my own horrible jobs, it doesn’t leave you perfectly normal after. Doctor Ziegler says I have a delusional disorder, mostly characterized by the paranoia.” It felt weird, letting those words fall from his lips so casually.  
     “But you are letting her help you?” Genji asked next, and he is pouring himself some more tea.  
     “Yes. Jesse, as well. Doctor Ziegler helps with my mental illness, and Jesse...He helps with the drinking.”  
     That piques Genji’s attention again, but Hanzo doesn’t let him speak yet. “It all culminated into a mess I was unable to handle on my own. The dragons, the paranoia, and then the drinking got so out of hand...I didn’t stop myself earlier because I had nothing to live for, and I thought...I thought that if I didn’t acknowledge I had a problem then everything would be okay. But the dragons didn’t let me go just because I was doing good for the world again. They didn’t stop even when we knew you were alive, and they waited until I was drunk to convince me to try at killing myself again, just as I tried ten years ago.”  
     “I wish I could say I understand, brother. But I don’t know much about you anymore, and vice versa. But, Hanzo...I hope that we will be able to know each other better in the coming months. I’ve decided not to take on any missions until you are free from the suicide watch.”  
     Hanzo nodded, and reached out to place a hand onto Genji’s arm, stopping him from taking another sip of his tea. “I appreciate that, Genji...However, do not expect my mental illness to be suddenly cured with this conversation. There will be times where I might panic at the sight of you. Until I am better, this is something you should not hold against me. I cannot help it yet, but I am working on this because you are my brother and I wish to rekindle our relationship.”  
     “I understand.”  
\--  
     They meditated together for a couple of hours, and by the time Hanzo returned to his room, he was emotionally exhausted. It had taken a lot of effort to keep his wits about him while Genji was with him, and he just really wanted a drink. He pulled up his commlink, sending a message to McCree asking him to meet him in his room.  
     He could have a drink. Just a quick one, before McCree arrived. There was no way the man would realize that Hanzo had been drinking if it was one.  
     No, no, he would know. Hanzo wasn’t sure how he would know, but he was certain that McCree would find out.  
     But why does it matter if he knows? What’s the worst that could happen, he’s not going to punish him.  
     He’s spared from his mind’s rhetoric by Jesse knocking on the door.  
     “It’s open,” He called, and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders.  
     Jesse entered, with a tired smile on his face. “Hey,” He mumbled, toeing off his shoes and falling into the bed next to Hanzo. “How was your chat with Genji? He seemed pretty happy when he returned to the kitchens with the tea set.” He asked, and casually wrapped an arm around Hanzo’s shoulder.  
     “It was exhausting. We talked a bit and meditated together afterwards, but it’s still hard to keep myself calm around him. I keep seeing him and I am reminded of what I did, and what he should do to me.” Hanzo pulled the blanket off from his owner shoulders easily and settled himself against the side of Jesse’s chest, more than content to use him as a human pillow since he already seemed to offer himself up.  
     “It’s progress, darling. I’m mighty proud of you.” Jesse offered, leaning down to kiss Hanzo’s forehead. “The withdrawals should be starting soon, since you’ve been alcohol free for two weeks now. Have you felt anything unusual?” He asked, and that really wasn’t a conversation Hanzo was ready to have.  
     He wasn’t just going to give up the bottles he had remaining, and he couldn’t afford to start feeling the full brunt of the withdrawals yet, not with Genji just arriving. He couldn’t let his brother see him like that, simply could not allow it.  
     “No, I haven’t felt anything yet. What sort of side effects should I look for?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know, as if he wasn’t the type to spend hours and hours extensively researching what would happen if he decided to stop drinking.  
     “Tremors, nausea at first. I remember my first few weeks I couldn’t stop vomiting. My mentor had really bad migraines for a while, when he finally quit.” McCree explained, and stopped to look down at him. “Promise me you’ll tell me when you start feeling them. The DT’s can be deadly, so it’s best if Angela and I are around for when they start.”  
     “I promise, I’ll let you know when they begin.”  
     “They probably should have started already, usually within a few days. You might be lucky to be getting off scot free from this one.”  
     “Perhaps I am lucky, but not because I am without withdrawals...But because I have a team that will be here with me to see this through to the end.”  
     “Awh, shucks, darlin’...”  
     Hanzo leaned up, and gently pressed a kiss against Jesse’s lips. It was something he had been wanting to do for a week or so, but hadn’t quite found the courage. But it felt so natural to do it now, when it seemed that there might be a light at the end of this tunnel.  
     Jesse grinned against his lips and he knew that the cowboy must feel the same way.  
     It was a good morning, all ups and downs considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so comments have really dropped off on this fic so I'm gonna ask you this: if you are still interested in this fic and would like to see it continue, can you please comment on this chapter? I'd really appreciate it.


	5. Omission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other shoe drops.

      His rituals adapted once again, after the arrival of Genji and Zenyatta, revealing to himself that he was was more flexible than his past might have him believe.  
     Where his mornings were previously spent alone, he now got up earlier to make tea with his brother then join Zenyatta for their morning meditation. Sometimes, they were silent in their respective meditative contemplation, and others, Zenyatta acted as their guide, speaking his wisdom and gently steering their thoughts towards true tranquility.  
     After breakfast, which was still spent wedged between Jesse and Lena, he worked attending to the Garden Ana and Bastion cultivated in the east wing of the Watchpoint, growing their own vegetables and fruits to improve the health of their heroes as well as occupy their extra time.  
     He divided his time between the tomato plants and the rose bushes, though he desperately wished it were possible to cultivate a cherry blossom tree in the watchpoint. The conditions weren’t very amicable, and they didn’t have the space required to grow the tree with the rest of the garden. Alas, he’d settle for the rose bushes in the decorative area and his perky tomatoes.  
     He still had time to watch movies with Jesse, even with the changes in his schedule. It was still the easiest time in his day, spent curled up against the side of the cowboy as they enjoyed the companionship of the other with no responsibilities getting in the way or troubling Hanzo’s thoughts.  
      It was just as pleasant as it had always been, even when they were now occasionally joined by Lucio and Hana, or Genji when he was passing through the common room.  
     However, while Hanzo was still prohibited from going out on missions or even practicing his aim, the Talon attacks around the world were increasing exponentially. Whereas the public attacks had been very sporadic, happening once every two months or so while Overwatch worked on finding out more about their hidden operations, now they were sent out to handle developing public attacks every few days. Without Hanzo on as their resident sniper, Jesse was forced to pick up the slack and cover the backs on the majority of the missions they were sent out on.  
     The cycle was vicious for the cowboy, and it was becoming more and more common for him to fall asleep with his head against Hanzo’s shoulder in the midst of his favorite Western classics. It was as endearing as it was concerning.  
     Sometimes, if Hanzo was especially lucky, Jesse would pass out with a glass of his favorite whiskey in hand, half sipped and too good to be wasted. Just a bit of alcohol, keeping the symptoms away and letting Hanzo continue his...frowned up habits without eating up the remains of his stash. Two unopened bottles of sake remained, just waiting for some kind of special occasion or need…  
     He was shaken from his wishful thinking by Jesse’s voice, suddenly louder than he had really been expecting. “Did ya’ hear me, Hanzo?” Jesse asked, rubbing the back of his head shyly as a blush rose to color his cheeks.  
     ”I apologize, I wasn’t paying attention. What was it you asked, Jesse?” He responded, an embarrassed blush of his own gracing his high cheekbones.  
     ”I was wonderin’, if tonight you’d like to join me for a proper date. I’ll cook us up a real nice meal, promise.” Jesse responded, and that blush of his just became so much more endearing now that Hanzo knew the context of it.  
     ”Of course, that sounds lovely, Jesse.” He leaned up, pressing another shy kiss against Jesse’s lips. In the passing weeks, they had only kissed each other a handful of times and none of them failed to send Hanzo’s gay heart fluttering.  
     They parted ways there, so Jesse could start making the appropriate preparations for their date, and so Hanzo could prepare himself physically and emotionally.  
     Which meant cracking open one of his final two bottles. It was a poor idea, he knew that immediately when he grabbed the bottle, but his nerves were eating him alive. He couldn’t handle Jesse McCree and all his sweet, kind glory totally sober. It would just be one drink, just half a masu like he had been doing the past few weeks.  
     It did not end up being half a masu. One half served only to raise his anxiety, thinking about what could happen should he get caught still drinking alcohol when he had sworn up and down that he was totally sober. Another half to drown it, making it a full glass for the first time in many weeks.  
     Funny, how an alcoholic could lose tolerance so easily in this day and age, especially with all the nanites flowing through his bloodstream at Dr. Ziegler’s behest.  
     He couldn’t even handle two whole masus, now. How embarrassing. He was, quite admittedly, drunk. He reached for his commlink, pressing the quick dial button that would put him in contact with Jesse.  
     Ring, ring, ring. The sound of the call being answered, Jesse’s voice airy and light. “Hey, Hanzo. I’m jus’ about halfway finished with dinner, wasn’t expecting you for answer half hour, but if you’d like to stop by to give a fella some company, I can’t say I’d be opposed.” Jesse was so cheery, so excited and it made Hanzo’s heart ache.  
     ”’M sorry, Jesse,” He breathed into the comm, trying really hard not to sound nearly as wasted as he truly was. “I’ve been...unavoidably detained, I’m ‘fraid I cannot attend our date,” He breathed out, reaching for his bottle of sake as guilt washed over him once more. “”M very, very sorry,” He added, breaking off to take another sip from the bottle and broke off coughing with the burn hitting much harder than he was expecting.  
     ”Hanzo...What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Jesse asked, activating the video link for their calm. The option to turn on his own video was too good to resist, pressing the button with hardly a thought of the possible consequences as he looked at the concern on Jesse’s face.  
     ”You look very nice today, Jesse~” He breathed out, a small grin coming across his lips as he eyed the apron the other man was adorned with.  
     ”Hanzo, what the hell! Are you drunk? ...Hanzo, I swear if that is a bottle of sake,” He broke off as Hanzo guiltily held up the bottle, in the light of the hologram version of Jesse.  
      It was genuinely terrifying, watching the emotions flicker across Jesse’s face. “For fuck’s sake,” He murmured eventually, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I believed you when you said you had stopped drinking. Should have known you would have pulled some shit, hiding away bottles. I really believed you, fuck, I was proud of you, Hanzo. Bragged about how great you were doin’ to all my friends, we were all so proud of you. You fucking lied not just to me, but to Angela, to Genji, to us all.”  
     Hanzo could feel his heart clench in his chest, anxiety making his whole body seize up as he heard Jesse rant out his anger. He hadn’t exactly lied, just hadn’t admitted to still being in possession of three bottles of his favorite drink...Which perhaps made it more of a lie by omission than anything.  
     ”Don’t bother coming for our date, I take back my invitation. Fuck you, Hanzo, honestly. Why won’t you let anyone help you, anyways? That’s all I’ve been trying to do in the past few weeks, out of my affection for you, and you play me like a fool. I’ve been so fucking busy, with every goddamn mission roster having my name on it, but I still made time to help you. Should have realized its a lost cause when you obviously don’t want to be helped.”  
     Jesse ended the commlink, and the sudden darkness left Hanzo unnerved as waves of regret and guilt flooded through him.  
     He had ruined everything, made a fucking mess of it all because a piece of shit like him could really never change, could he? He was such a fucking mess, couldn’t stop himself from ruining the most pleasant time in his godawful life.  
     He took one last sip of the sake before his own anger and guilt stopped him, reaching down to smash the bottle against his night stand. “Damn!” He growled, the anger of the dragon spirits running through him. “Damn it, damn it all,” He yelled, grabbing the other hidden bottle and smashing it similarly. He was only smart enough to grab his coat before he was storming out of the bedroom, too angry to stay cooped up in the dim space. Only bad things ever happened in that room, and fuck if he could stand being in it a moment longer.  
     Five minutes later found himself sitting on the highest point of the Watchpoint easily accessible in his state, atop one of the remaining construction towers from when they had started expanding the Watchpoint at the height of Overwatch’s days.  
     He was so fucking stupid. A disappointment, a drunkard, an absolute fucking waste of time to all of those he encountered. Rather than have a positive impact on the lives of others, it seemed as those he was only a disappointment and hurt those around him.  
     What a fucking idiot he was, ruining everything he had built with Jesse just because of some anxiety rather than sending the man a message or finding his way to any of the people who often offered their assistance to Hanzo in this journey.  
     He reached up, yanking on his remaining hair angrily as some sort of way to get this petulant anger out. He had fucked it all up, he was a fucking failure. He should just kill himself, should throw himself down from the top of the tower and fucking end it. He shouldn’t waste anyone else’s time, shouldn’t let himself become a disappointment once more.  
     No, no, no, that was not what Zenyatta told him to do when he was feeling upset. He was supposed to find his center, steady his breathing, and sort out his emotions like a grown man. He could handle this, he could wrangle in his emotions because he was not just some sort of a petulant child.  
     But that was so much effort, and he was so cold and so tired. He sent a quick “SOS” to Genji, knowing that where previously seeing his brother at a time like this used to make him want to jump off all the more, now just the sight of the man’s brilliant armor was a reminder that Hanzo still had a purpose in this world and a cause to fight for, just as soon as he found himself out of the suicide watch.  
     It would be a long time until Genji could make his way out there, Hanzo knew this. When Genji was not out on missions, he generally left his commlink in his room to avoid unnecessary distractions from his scheduled meditations and lessons from Zenyatta throughout the day.  
      He was not going to throw himself from the tower, he was not going to throw himself from the tower, he was not going to throw himself from the tower.  
     In for seven seconds, out for eleven seconds. Follow the animation until he no longer felt as if he was choking on his own throat. He could handle himself, even though he just royally fucked up his entire world.  
     He could be okay out here, for however long it took for Genji to come out here and inspire him just like he always does. He only hoped that it wouldn’t be too long, didn’t want to risk the climb down to the bottom of the tower while the alcohol was still holding onto his motor skills.  
\---  
     Predictably, it wasn’t until morning that Genji found himself at the bottom of the tower. His brother looked positively wretched, between the messy hair and nasty hangover. He had heard all about Hanzo’s mistakes that night from Jesse, the man just barely stopping by to explain what had happened before he was seeing himself to Winston’s office to do god know’s what.  
     He hadn’t exactly expected to see his brother this way, with messy makeup and tear streaks down his cheeks the morning after such a mistake.  
     ”Hanzo, would you like to come down so we can talk about this?” He called, placing a hand on his hip expectantly.  
     ”I messed up, Genji,” Hanzo responded, sounding so put out and miserable that it made Genji’s half synthetic heart ache in sympathy.  
     ”Yes, I heard from Jesse all about it. But to make mistakes is what makes us human, brother. You can still recover and move forward, it is all apart of the process.” He paused, seeing that his brother was still just as depressed as he had been before he noticed Genji’s arrival. “Besides, you are not the first alcoholic to relapse and you will not be the last. I heard some gossip from Ana and Bastion...It seems as though your tomatoes are finally ripe enough to pick. Wouldn’t you like to tend to them?” He asked, and watched the flicker of pride and excitement cross Hanzo’s face.  
     ”I would…”  
\---  
     ”What do you mean, Jesse is no longer on the base? I was not aware there were any missions going out today, and I do not see his name on any of the rosters in the common room,” Hanzo demanded, glaring down Winston angrily as he demanded his answers.  
     ”Hanzo, Jesse took on an extended mission along Route 66, since he felt his particular...skills and history makes him best fit for the job. We had been considering to send a full team out there, but he assured us that he would be able to send back intel before that point, so long as he did not have to go on the full mission there.” Winston responded, adjusting his spectacles and seeming all too dignified for the conversation topic.  
     Hanzo had driven him away. He knew that Jesse was exhausted and practically begging to be taken off the rosters, but Hanzo had ruined it all, ruined the carefully crafted balance of the Watchpoint in one moment of weakness. “How can I contact him? He has not been responding to any of my commlink messages, and I absolutely must apologize.”  
     Winston looked especially guilty, “Unfortunately, he has left his general commlink behind to use a more secure, clean one for this mission. I am only allowed to initiate contact with him in emergency situations.”  
     Hanzo’s heart ached, knowing it could be weeks or even months before the return of the man he loved. Even just admitting that in his head made it all the worse, knowing just how badly he had fucked it all up.  
     ”I am sorry, I must go…” He rasped out, and left the room as briskly as he could.  
     It wasn’t going to be easy, coming back from this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for commenting! It really made the difference to see all of these comments and truly inspired me to continue this fic til the very end. I hope I didn't scare you guys too much, and I hope this chapter doesn't hurt to read as badly as it hurt to write. I warned you all from the beginning, and I'm sure you were all expecting that shoe to drop sooner or later. 
> 
> Please leave a comment telling me your reaction to this chapter, itll really make the difference! The fic is drawing to a close, but if there's enough interest, I might be able to write some additional one shots to the universe or maybe even write a full length sequel! It all depends on the responses I get in these last few chapters. Thank you guys so much and if you're interested in sending me questions, messages, or ideas about McHanzos or anything else, you can find me @ gayiconhanzo on tumblr.


	6. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree starts his recon mission.

      Honestly, if he never came back to Arizona again, it would still be too soon.  
      It was hot as hell and dry as sin, and after spending the summer in the humid Gibraltar scene, it was absolutely the last place on Earth he ever wanted to be in.  
      “I swear, after this, I’m never coming back to this place,” McCree muttered as he lit his cigar, eying the other patrons of the High Side from his comfy back corner booth. It wasn’t as lively as it had once been, when Deadlock was still getting its grimy fingers into the place. Now, there were only people who were part of the gang, compliant to them, or tough as nails and not meant to be fucked with.   
     Fortunately for McCree’s sake, the place was owned by the toughest woman he had ever met, Ole’ Miss Jessamine. Even when Jesse was just a kid, hardly fourteen when he was running around with the Deadlocks, she had never budged an inch on their intimidation tactics and had even shot one of their higher ranking members with a shotgun when encroached upon. Ever since that incident, she had been left alone by Deadlock in fear of her band of tough patrons and employees. Heaven only knows if she had a way of destroying Deadlock from the inside out, just waiting on the day they just pissed her off too much.  
      She didn’t recognize him, with his usual gear abandoned with a more appropriate biker outfit for the gang and his beard finally trimmed. With four hundred credits slid across the counter when he entered, he ensured that nobody would be asking too many questions about his place in the bar.  
      He was just here to do recon, see how far Deadlock had their fingers into the pies around here before they’d set up a payload mission. Maybe a huge ass bomb, if it needed to get that far. Where could they set up a base of communications, where should they plan to have their snipers and whatnot when they ultimately came to shutdown Deadlock before Talon decided to acquire their assistance.  
     However, despite it being a Friday night, when the Deadlock’s of Jesse’s day used to venture out and come to have a good night on the town, the bar is surprisingly empty where there should be at least a couple of the lower ranking members coming to have a drink and play some pool.  
     Which, gives him time to think and dwell over the past few days. A series of planes and hyper trains with different aliases and costumes dropped him off at Deadlock Gorge this morning, three days after his unfortunate encounter with Hanzo.  
     Hanzo, Hanzo, Hanzo. Who disappointed and angered McCree so badly, burned him so harshly simply because McCree had seen it all before and knew that it would be a vicious cycle, of lies and deceit to only happen again and again until he was dying in his arms once more, bleeding out because alcohol has some lovely inhibition removing side effects, doesn’t it? Til it was time for McCree to see it destroy another person he cared about, who he loved?  
     He had been harsh, but you have to be harsh in the face of realizing that someone had been lying to you for weeks. Hanzo looked him in the eyes and lied to him in every conceivable way, let Jesse think he was really helping and getting through to him.  
     How fake. He felt betrayed, watching Hanzo go through the same actions Gabe had, once before. All smiles and easy lies to his face, only to go back to the bottle as soon as the lights were out and drink away any guilt they might have felt.  
     It was so annoying, so frustrating and hurtful.   
     McCree put his head against his hands, trying to take a moment to compose himself and give him another way to look at the situation.  
     He probably could have done a better job of checking Hanzo’s room for alcohol, probably should have made Hanzo show him every hiding hole in his room that he might have missed. He couldn’t exactly expect someone with an addiction to be able to give away information when McCree never actually asked if he had gotten it all.   
      It was only Hanzo’s first relapse. It had taken three or four for McCree to get half as mad at Gabe as he did with Hanzo. He had been unnecessarily harsh, given the offense. But McCree had been working so hard to be with Hanzo, to support him as best as he could even though there were days where he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the following thirty two hours, before he’d be back for another mission briefing. Instead of catching up on sleep or relaxing, he was putting in the hours to be Hanzo’s other option to the drinking, to steadily give him reason to keep being sober, and helping him get his life back on track. He was so fucking tired.  
     He could still feel the aching from all the missions in his bones. And he highly doubted this one would end up being much better, even if it was just recon.  
      It was nearing ten thirty when the group of men entered the bar. Obviously Deadlock, just by the looks of the sheer amount of leather, studs, and tattoos. They were much less weary as McCree might have expected, coming in to play pool at what seemed to be their usual table. Jessamine didn’t even blink an eye at their arrival, and judging at the freshness of their tattoos, they were still just newbies.   
     This is where the majority of his information would come from. Newbies always had the loosest lips, hadn’t slipped up enough times to know the consequences of easy boasts. They even still had all their fingers intact, and it was a good sign for McCree.   
     Enough about Hanzo, it was time to finesse the hell out of these guys.   
     He stood up from his corner booth for the first time in a few hours, wincing minutely at how his knee twinged from being moved from its position. Ahh, the wonders of growing old. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he was back home, with Hanzo curled against his side and all those lovely painkillers?  
      Alas, it wasn’t like anybody else would be able to pull off this mission without getting caught. All their other members were too obvious, stuck out like a sore thumb around these parts, and wouldn’t have the local knowledge to survive without getting caught.   
      He slides another six hundred credits over the counter to Miss Jessamine, and realizes she loves him already, just for the fact he’s already spent a thousand credits in her bar and she’s hardly had to do any work for it.  
     She wouldn’t love him if she recognized who he was, what he had done in this town.   
      Keep going. “I’d like to send a bottle o’ Blue Label over to the boy’s over there. Tell them it’s on the house for their continued patronage, but they shouldn’t expect your kindness again. You can’t be expected to do things like that all the time, can ya? And I’d like a rum and coke for myself.” He realizes he’s paid about two hundred credits over the actual price of the bottle and the drink, but that was the cost of anonymity. Jessamine’s lies wouldn’t come cheap and it seems he hit at just the right price.  
     The rum and coke is quick to make. A far cry from his usual drink of choice, but when you asks for oddly specific brands of cheap whiskey, people start thinking a little bit too much for his liking.  
     The Blue Label will be enough to loosen their lips, and he simply just has to sit back and watch. Listen in for the good bits of information and keep tabs on any personal info he could glean - such as other times they might come and drop more information for him to scoop up and report back home.  
      Jessamine plays her role perfectly, looking the slightest bit stern but endeared by all of the young members. No doubt she’s just as sympathetic to the kids sucked into the gang as she was when he was in their place.   
      It’s time to sit back and watch the night unravel.   
      He gleans a good amount of information off of them that night, enough to send back his first report whenever he ends up typing it out for Winston and Soldier to pour over, but it won’t be enough to go on when they send a mission. He needs more time out here, despite how he was already aching to be back in his comfortable bed back in Gibraltar with the man he was sweet on.  
      He would want nothing more to be there than here, stuck in The Cave Inn with a scratchy blanket that served only to remind him of his favorite red serape, which he had left back at home for its notoriety.   
\--  
      He dreams of Hanzo that night.  
      It starts out soft, gentle. Hanzo with a wide smile on his face, laid out on a sunlight bed.   
     ”Come back to bed, Jesse,” The dream Hanzo sighs, reaching out, and god Hanzo’s arms were just covered in scars.   
      “Hanzo, what happened to you?” Jesse asks, frantic as the scars open up and bleed red all over those white, sunlit sheets.   
     ”You left me! I was drunk and I needed you and you left me!” The dream Hanzo snaps, his eyes glossing over white. The arm reaches out and grabs Jesse by the hair, yanking him forward so the face can morph.  
      It wasn’t Hanzo, it was Gabe. His face is sunken in and he looks exhausted, looks like he did the last time Jesse saw him, a week before Zurich.   
     ”You left us and never looked back. We needed you, kid,” Gabe spit out before releasing McCree and sitting up. “He needed you more than I ever did. He hardly fucked up and you snapped on him,” Gabe responded, sounding so disgusted and disappointed in the man he had adopted as one of his own.  
     ”Thought I raised you better than that,” Gabe sighed, pulling out a cigarette as he morphs once more, enveloped in shadows. “Guess it’s too late. The damage to him is done,” Reaper sighs, jerks his head towards the bed.   
      Jesse looks down, surprised to have forgotten about the sheets and is shocked to his core. Hanzo, wrists slashed and still oozing blood with those scary, lifeless eyes.   
     It feels as if he had activated Deadeye, but instead of locking onto an enemy, he seems to have locked on to Hanzo.   
     His own voice, disembodied and angry, startles him awake.  
     ”Draw!”  
     He wakes up gasping for air like a man drowned, fear gripping his old heart and sweat pouring down his face.   
     He hadn’t checked if Hanzo was okay, before he left. He had been so angry, so bitter about Hanzo’s betrayal and only seeing his own past, that he hadn’t ever checked to see if Hanzo was okay.  
      He brings up his emergency comm link, knowing just how dangerous it could be to make any sort of connection in this area and knowing his messages might be intercepted should Deadlock care enough to try.  
     He knows Genji’s comm number by heart.   
     ”Is he okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told yall we'd be getting to see McCree's pov!!!
> 
> This was initially going to be quite the different chapter, but I wanted to address some of the things I saw in the comments. Jesse does feel bad about snapping at Hanzo, just as bad as Hanzo feels about lying to him. We're probably going to get another McCree chapter in before we return back to Gibraltar! 
> 
> How do you guys feel about this perspective shift? Lemme know with a comment! 
> 
> The plot is extending way longer than I initially anticipated, but I get the feeling y'all probably like it as much as you hate it! We'll see!
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Send them to me at gayiconhanzo on Tumblr! Also if any of you maybe possibly would be interested in cheap writing commissions, send me a message there too! I'm just feeling out interest at the moment.


	7. On Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse concludes his mission on Route 66 and returns home to Gibraltar.

      “Is he okay?”   
     The statement feels so underwhelming, in the moments in which Jesse is desperately waiting for Genji to respond to him. Would Genji even realize that it was Jesse texting him, not simply the result of a wrong comm number? Would Genji know what he was referring to, without Jesse tacking on additional information?  
      Guilt and regret washed over him in steady waves as he waited, even getting up to go wash his face in the en suite bathroom he paid an extra fifty credits a night for. He leaves the comm on the bed, trying not to guilt himself into an anxiety attack of his own as he starts to trim away any stray hairs on his beard. That was his coping method, had been for years. The disorganized cowboy who couldn’t get his life together could only rid his anxiety through cleaning and tidying things up, no matter how trivial the task might be.  
     He is letting out a rueful little laugh at the irony when his comm link chirps and he practically throws himself back onto the bed to check the message.   
     ”Good evening, Jesse.” Well, there went that anxiety.   
     ”He isn’t dead, if that’s what you’re asking. But, I cannot say that your words have not done their harm to him, nor is it possible for me to say he is entirely okay.”  
     The words felt like a punch to the gut, at that point. He shouldn’t have snapped at Hanzo, shouldn’t have let his past cloud his judgement in that moment. He had been angry, yes, but he was too harsh and words could have devastating effects. He’s typing back immediately, “I’m so sorry. What’s happened since I left?”   
     ”What you said to him sent him back months, from what I’ve come to understand. He almost killed himself again, which renewed his ban from missions. He is under constant surveillance, all of us having to be sure he doesn’t try to commit suicide again.”   
     The punch to the gut has elevated to the feeling of a knife in his chest, ice cold and sharp against his heart as he takes in all the implications.   
     Genji seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to respond to that message, as he continued on his report of Hanzo’s condition. “He hates the surveillance, absolutely disgusted that we have to see him as he goes through the withdrawals. He only lets Zenyatta into his room at night, when his nausea is the worst.”  
     ”So he is entirely sober?” McCree asks, finally getting the ability to type after the waves of heartbreak he had been receiving.  
     ”He smashed the remaining sake bottles shortly after you hung up on him. He is constantly anxious about what he would do if he came across more, so he had Tracer and I go through the entire Watchpoint to put every bottle into a liquor cabinet and lock it.”   
     He really hadn’t given Hanzo enough credit, for how smart and strong he was. He was so strong, having struggled with these feelings and issues for ten years and still just continuing to go on despite how badly he was suffering.  
     ”Worst of all, he is more depressed than I’ve seen him in months, almost as bad as Hanamura...He does not want us to expend extra effort, thinks that it would be better if he was simply dead already. He is caught between wanting to be sober and wanting to simply be dead. It is horrifying.”  
     Rationally, McCree knew that Hanzo had always been struggling with these feelings, and that McCree’s words were simply the straw to break his back. But that did not stop him from being eaten alive with guilt that he had set Hanzo back so far with his burst of anger.   
     ”I can keep you updated, if you are worried. But I must go now, Jesse, it is time to take Hanzo to breakfast.”  
     ”Please, update me every night. I’ll be waiting.”  
     He lays back against his bed and pulls the scratchy blanket up once more. He had let his anger control him, and he resolved himself immediately to remove himself from a situation before he let it get that bad again. He needed to have more control because Hanzo was the one truly suffering here, more important than McCree’s pride and disappointment.   
     He puts the comm link down on the bedside table, taking the opportunity to absorb the information Genji had given him.   
     Hanzo had tried to kill himself again, since Jesse had left. There was nothing he could do to absolve himself of that guilt, not until Hanzo was safe again.   
      He was too tired, too exhausted after his nightmare to continue to analyze how he feels about the situation. It is time to let the guilt go, for now, simply because he was still in the middle of a rather dangerous mission. It would just have to wait for another time, when he was more capable of handling his emotions.  
     His sleep is dreamless.  
\--  
     The recon is slow. The Deadlocks in general have been more careful about what information they just leak out. It’s damn near impossible to get anything concrete like dates, times, and access points just from the slurred out words of teenagers.   
    &nbsp He reads each and every update from Genji carefully, looking for any sign that Hanzo might be getting better, but it seems like the archer was now stagnating. Eating was hard for him, he spent as much time as he could get away with asleep. Genji once even described him as “a haunting shell of the man he had once been” and McCree worried. He longed to return to the Watchpoint, to go home and apologize and try to make Hanzo see the worth in his own life once more, but it seemed the Deadlocks had been put on high alert recently, and his slow stream of information had come to a complete halt.  
    &nbsHe finds himself spending longer and longer in the bar, hardly even drinking at that point because he is simply just too tired of straining his ears, and sneaking off around in the summer heat to get the best vantage points into the Deadlock fortress. He rehydrates after the long day, and goes back to the hotel room around the same time every night, shortly after the few Deadlocks who are still coming to The High Side.  
      Which is how he ended up in this mess. About twenty minutes after the Deadlocks filed out, he has paid his nightly bill to Miss Jessamine and found himself taking the walk under the moonlight to the Cave Inn. It is then when he hears a loud wolf whistle behind him, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise as he realized he was surrounded.  
      The young Deadlocks flank him on every side, each armed with a crowbar or some sort of machete. Guess guns were too loud too be fired off near The High Side. He turns around slowly, taking the opportunity to count the number of enemies around him. Twelve of ‘em, huh? It wouldn’t be easy to get himself out of this mess, that was for sure.  
      “Jesse McCree. The man, the legend! What an honor it is to have you here with us tonight, sir,” The leader of this particular group drawled past his cigarette, the sharp scent floating through the stagnant, dry air and leaving Jesse vaguely reminiscent of home, with Ana’s Newports filling the air as she tended to her garden.  
      “Ah, yeah. As much as I’d love to stay here and chat with y’all about my glory days, I do think it would all be in my best interests if I was on my way.” He responded, hand on the holster of Peacekeeper.  
      “Ah, I’m sorry. You’re just too big of a fish around here for us to let you go. Papa Deadlock is just going to be overjoyed to see you.” The leader, and that had his head tilting in curiosity.   
      Back in his days, there certainly wasn’t a “Papa Deadlock” around these parts. Maybe after he had gone off with Blackwatch, new leadership had taken over the gang in the wake of the takedowns Gabriel had facilitated.   
      Maybe it was one of a few of the other high ranking members that had escaped just before the takedowns. It was this kind of information he needed to find out about so there weren’t any surprises when they sent the mission out here.   
      He wasn’t given any more time to contemplate before one of the members that had moved behind him was hitting him upside the head with one of his crowbars.  
     Whoops.  
\----  
     He woke up in a place he hadn’t seen in years yet recognized immediately. The Cave of Mystery managed to hit him with a wave of nostalgia before the wave of pain could wash over him, which was astounding, frankly.  
     Of course, the pain did come in the form of a pounding pain in the back of his head where he had been knocked out. Shit, he really shouldn’t have gotten distracted by an offhanded mention of a leader in the gang. He looked around the Mystery Cave, seeing where most of the Deadlocks that had abducted him previously were gone and only six of them remained.   
      It was far from a good situation, given how they had stripped him of his comm and his Peacekeeper. He was handcuffed to a pipe in one of the far off corners, just able to see where the Deadlocks were seated drinking and screwing around.   
      Ahh, but they were young and stupid, he realized. Not only did they not bring him directly to the Deadlock base where he’d have to shoot his way out, but they’d handcuffed him leaving his prosthetic arm free.   
     Surely they had doubted the strength and capabilities of his prosthetic and ingenuity. He was reaching over to test the strength of the cuffs when one of the Deadlocks turned to him, grinning viciously.  
     The man approached him, a sharp, shining knife in hand. “So, boss man said that we can’t kill ya, since you’ve got too mighty fine a bounty on your head for us to risk them questionin’ whether it’s really you.” He explained, coming to kneel in front of Jesse and twirling the knife swiftly.   
     Jesse refused to let his annoyance show on his face, wanting the young men to continue to believe they had the upper hand in the situation. He just had to wait for the right moment to make his move, and this simply wasn’t it. He had to wait, had to wait, had to wait -  
     The man plunged the knife into McCree’s thigh with a surprising show of strength.   
     He let out a groan of pain, looking down to see where the knife was embedded into the meat of his thigh. That was going to be a bitch to deal with when he got out of here, and his anger flared with the pain running through his system. He didn’t let the stream of profanities slip from his mouth, simply gritting his teeth as the knife was yanked out roughly.   
     ”Had to, couldn’t let you get any ideas about getting out of here.” The man chuckled, reaching out to hand McCree a filthy looking towel. “You might want to put pressure on that,” He added, rising back up to his feet. He flicked the knife outward, and a few drops of blood splattered across McCree’s face and clothing.  
     Fucking prick.   
     He bid his time, quietly seething in anger and pain as he started to learn the habits of the Deadlocks. Finally, finally, four hours later he finds his opportunity. Two Deadlocks passed out after a “drinking contest” between the kids, and the other four headed outside for a smoke and piss break.  
     Breaking the handcuffs was easy, but rising to his feet with his leg injury was harder. Blood loss left him woozy and lightheaded, but it wouldn’t be the worst situation he found himself in.   
     He managed to get peacekeeper and strap it around his waist, and grabbing his own comm link was almost an afterthought. He was getting ready to head out of the back entrance of the mystery cave when the Deadlock brats returned, awaking their friends with their shouts of panic.  
     ”Holy fuck, I told you we should have handcuffed both arms!” One of them yelled, looking around frantically for the gun McCree had already chucked into a dark corner of the Mystery Cave.   
     ”Move, I’ve got this!” The leader yelled, drawing his gun and beginning to line his shot.  
     Activating Deadeye felt wrong after his nightmare, and for a few moments his vision was filled with Dream Hanzo’s sad, dead eyes as he lined up his shots. Three, two, one...Draw!   
     Six bodies in front of him, and for all the trouble they gave him, he still managed to feel bad. They were young, hardly over the age of twenty if that. But Deadlock had a way of corrupting anything and anyone, and he didn’t have time to feel bad. Surely the shots would have echoed and who knew how long it would be until this place was swarmed. He grabs their comms and the gun the leader had been holding. He wasn’t a big fan of using anything but Peacekeeper, but sometimes it was a necessity.  
     He stumbled back towards The Cave Inn and sends a quick message about his emergency evacuation to Winston on the way. In his room, he crudely sews up the cut in his leg, just to hold him out until Lena arrived to evac him.  
     It was one hell of a night, and the pains and aches were returning now that the adrenaline was gone. God, he wasn’t going to sleep right for weeks, just picturing the fear in the eyes of those kids.   
     Fuck, man. How could a simple recon mission go this poorly?  
\----  
     His return to the Watchpoint was lackluster, at best. Soldier, Winston, and Angela are there to meet him after Lena touched down the ship.  
     Angela takes him to the medbay while Soldier and Winston question him about how the mission went. He hasn’t gone through the comms yet, but he knows that he’ll find good information about it.   
     But first, he needed some whisky, his cigarillos, and sleep.   
\----  
     He knows he has to see Hanzo when he wakes up in the next morning, jetlagged as all hell and feeling like shit. He manages to drag himself out of bed, using the handy crutch Angela had given him to head towards the kitchen where breakfast should be going.  
     Hanzo doesn’t look like himself, Jesse realizes when he enters the room. He is flanked by Genji and Zenyatta, but he is paler than Jesse had ever seen him, and his cheeks are more pronounced than ever. He has bags under his eyes and bandages around his wrists, and Jesse feels like he got shot through the heart all over again.   
      He sits down across from Hanzo, desperately trying to catch his eye, but the man simply looks down at his untouched meal rather than make any eye contact.  
     Genji really hadn’t been kidding when he said Hanzo wasn’t okay.   
     He had a lot of work ahead of him, setting everything right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all, I've finally finished up this chapter! I've had this one in the works for a few weeks and I'm very glad to present it to you guys! 
> 
> I really enjoyed reading and responding to all the comments on the debate about who really fucked up between Jesse and Hanzo. I wanted to make it clear that while Jesse made a mistake, I'm not going to demonize him for it. He was a man who had an unforeseen reaction to a tough situation, and words hurt. But he is more than willing to take responsibility for what he did and is planning on setting everything right as best as he can.
> 
> Hanzo should have come clean to Jesse sooner, though anyone who struggles with addiction may find it incredibly hard to give up their final crutch and go cold turkey if they don't necessarily have to. However, the things Jesse said out of anger had a very huge affect on Hanzo's mental state and the more time that passed without resolution between the two of them (Since McCree was gone on the mission) the more the words sunk in and started to play with his mind and heart. We'll be going back to Hanzo's POV in the next chapter, so I'm sure you'll understand it a bit more then.
> 
> As always, please comment anything you'd like to discuss, liked, didn't like, etc! These comments really make my day and the ones I got on the last chapter really influenced how I wrote this one.


	8. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo isn't quite the same and yet...He really is.

      At this point, he should not be feeling as shitty as he currently does. But, alas, he was still sitting in his small, cold bathroom retching into the toilet.  
     Angela had told him when he admitted he was finally going truly clean that the symptoms depended on how long he’d been drinking, the kind of alcohol he had been drinking, and partially about what he’d be expecting or worrying about. He accepted his fate and promised he’d check in with her every morning to talk about his symptoms and what they could do to make it easier on him.  
      That had been the plan, at least. He woke up on the third morning, three days after Jesse had left, and was overcome with a nausea that had plagued him ever since, even now, two and a half weeks later. The nausea made him loathe to eat anything, hardly able to force down even a quarter of the food Genji prepared for him.  
      The other symptoms were far, far worse. The insomnia came on day four, and Hanzo had been unable to sleep a full night ever since, constantly plagued by his thoughts and symptoms, with little to no outlets for all of the things brewing inside of him.  
      Two soft taps at his bathroom door is the only warning he is allowed, a small luxury given the course past few weeks, before Genji is entering his bathroom to take care of him. Genji, who has stuck by his side through all of this even after all Hanzo has done. He is so grateful to have him during this process, even now as he hauls Hanzo to his feet, though given how much weight Hanzo had lost over the past few months, it likely didn’t require much effort.  
      “Angela told me to change your bandages,” Genji hummed, and Hanzo sighed as he was forced to roll up the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. The sleeves extended far past his hands, and made him feel all the smaller. One of the many gifts and small gestures made by his teammates since he recently came clean about his addiction to the whole of Overwatch. Reinhardt had given him one of his hoodies after Hanzo mentioned how bad the shakes had been in the first few days.  
      Genji pulled back the bandages covering the inside of his wrists gently, and Hanzo winced, brought back to the present moment. “These are looking better,” He commented, before pulling out the kit he had been given by the Good Doctor herself. He helped himself to inspecting the rest of Hanzo’s arms, pausing at a fresher cut almost hidden by the sleeves.  
      “Where did this one come from? I thought that we had…” Genji trailed, and his face showed his concern, something Hanzo did not want to dwell upon. “I do not want you to keep hurting yourself, brother. It is not a way to find self peace, it will do you no good.” He tried to explain, cleaning the cut with deft fingers.  
      Hanzo hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, looking down and away from Genji. “You seem to misunderstand the purpose of...all of it.” He sighed, shaking his head as he attempted desperately to put his feelings to words. “I am a lost cause, a waste of your time and your effort.” He decided that was a good enough explanation, even as a devastated look crossed Genji’s face. “But, I cannot bring myself to simply end it. I apologize for the continued inconvenience,” He added, knowing that he couldn’t simply continue to take all the care and time Genji and the others had put into simply keeping Hanzo afloat. He bowed his head respectfully.  
      “Hanzo,” Genji murmured and _suddenly_ , he was against Genji’s chest listening to his heart beat. Genji’s arms were wrapped around him, so careful, so soft as if he expected that Hanzo might just _shatter_ if he squeezed to hard. As if Hanzo was made of spun glass.  
      He was such a burden, to all of Overwatch. He just needed to either leave and save them the trouble, or he needed to end it. That sounded about right, he needs to end it all. Kill himself, stab himself through the heart or maybe try and slit his wrists again because he was just a waste of time, just a _lost cause_.  
      “Whatever you are thinking, brother, it is not true. We love you, and we are here to support you,” Genji murmured against his shoulder, almost as if he had read Hanzo’s mind. Or perhaps simply sensed his rising terror. “Now, let me clean the rest of those wounds and then we are to attend breakfast. Reinhardt said he was whipping up something special today.”  
      Hanzo looked up at his brother, looking for any of the insincerity that might have once followed any kind statement Genji made (as it did when they were children) but he could tell that Genji, although he did not understand all that Hanzo was going through, meant every word and was truly doing his best.  
      It was...reassuring.  
\--  
      Breakfast was quiet, but not unpleasant. Reinhardt had made what he called a “True German breakfast” that Genji quietly tacked a “™” onto when writing it down on their usual, tacky menu board. It consisted of homemade bread rolls, soft cheeses freshly imported into the Watchpoint on Reinhardt’s own dime, and a homemade sausage that made Hanzo’s stomach churn uncomfortably just at its smell.  
      He managed to eat half a roll, much to Genji and Zenyatta’s delights, but it was all interrupted as Winston and Soldier rose from their seats abruptly, apparently receiving the same comm message. “McCree’s back,” Soldier explained briskly as he headed towards the door, and Dr. Ziegler was rising to her feet to follow them out to where the airship had landed.  
      He lost his appetite entirely at that moment, as the version of Jesse that had grown in his absence began to speak up and twist. It wasn’t as sophisticated as his delusions used to be, with the alcohol giving them strength, but it still burned into his heart as the voice twisted and murmured in the back of his skull, calling him a mistake, a waste of time, a _lost cause_.  
      He rose to his feet, looking between Genji and Zenyatta as anxiety started to bubble up through him. He wasn’t sure what to say, what he could possibly say to make the situation any less terrifying or awful. He wasn’t ready to face Jesse, and just the thought of the things the other man might say to him had him nearly ready to puke up what little he had eaten of breakfast.  
      Zenyatta rose to his feet first, ever so graceful as he decided it would be best to walk alongside of Hanzo rather than continue floating. It was the small accommodations that made Hanzo all the more comfortable.  
      They walked out to their usual mediation spot, far off from any of the busy areas of the Watchpoint where they can be alone and relaxed. He appreciated the silence more than anything, and felt comfort in knowing that Zenyatta would not break it unless Hanzo asked him to, an unspoken agreement after Hanzo broke down in the middle of guided meditation a week ago.  
      Zenyatta was one of the few he could trust not to judge him, no matter how bad the situation was. Genji and Zenyatta were the two that the Jesse residing inside of his mind could not possibly corrupt. They were simply to honest and open to him to be affected by it, and Hanzo was so grateful for their presence.  
      He falls into silent meditation at Zenyatta’s side, and it lasts for a few hours, gently guiding himself away from the meddling thoughts. He had always thought meditation was about pondering the things that were bothering him, but it was more about letting the thoughts go by peacefully, without following them. It allowed him to give him a better understanding of his mind and come at his problems from more stable ground.  
      He wished he could stay out there for the entire day, but alas, Genji must pull him out in order to eat some food for lunch.  
      It is a quiet endeavor between the two of them as he drinks down some warm soup. It’s some kind of broth, and it fills his stomach with warmth. It’s a vaguely uncomfortable feeling, given how the past few weeks had gone, but he does his best to ground himself throughout their “meal”.  
      “You should head in soon, brother,” Genji sighs eventually, as the wind picks up.  
      Summer was reaching its end, and there was a certain electricity in the air, carried by the wind. A storm was brewing out there somewhere, and while he’d love to muse about metaphors for his life, he didn’t want to add any further illnesses to his withdrawal symptoms.  
      He lets Genji and Zenyatta shepherd him inside like the mother ducks they are, until he is curled up in one of the smaller common rooms in the Watchpoint, with Genji and Zenyatta at his flanks as they watch some documentary about sharks, apparently.  
      The Watchpoint is quiet today, but then again, Genji and Zenyatta have been steering him clear of the more lively parts after a particular incident where Hanzo had a panic attack from the garden party and the looks sent his direction by the good Ms. Amari and Dr. Ziegler at the same time. Looks that could only be interpreted as disappointment as Ana Amari presumably learns about Hanzo’s incredibly recent suicide attempt, five days after Jesse left on his mission.  
      The looks of the older members, those whom Jesse had presumably talked to about how he was helping Hanzo and those who had known how proud Jesse was of him for staying sober, were enough to drive Hanzo mad with anxiety and guilt, so he generally stayed away from them.  
      Lucio and Hana were fine to be around, when Genji and Zenyatta were busy handling a situation or out on a mission. They never pushed him into getting involved in their shenanigans, simply letting him be a silent spectator, particularly in their video game competitions.  
      They were more adamant about getting him to eat, with Lucio’s particular concerns relating to his status as a healer, but they never pushed hard enough to genuinely upset him. They were good kids and he was glad to have them as friends, he noted as they walked through the living room, the shortcut between two long hallways in an attempt to get to Lucio’s impromptu DJ studio.  
      The day dragged on slowly, and Hanzo knew that slow days like this rarely lead to good nights. But, he’d just have to see where it lead him.  
\---  
      The night leaves him feeling like a man haunted. Jesse’s voice echoes around the room around him, as Hanzo’s mood slowly declines the longer he is without sleep. He is so nauseous that he has been forced to drag the trash bin next to his bed, so that he could vomit freely as needed.  
      Night time is one of the few times they allow him to be alone, though every few hours someone comes to check on him to make sure he wasn’t in any major danger to himself.  
      Gotta love protocols, huh?  
      Though, of course, if he had just stopped drinking alcohol when he said he did, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t be bothering his friends and family this way, he wouldn’t be a _stupid fucking lost cause_.  
      He reaches up, pulls on his hair hopelessly as Jesse seems to chime in again. He wasn’t wrong, though. Hanzo had truly fucked it up, he was just so worthless and disgusting. He didn’t deserve any of their worry, of their time and effort. He had something good with McCree, and his own selfishness had ruined it all.  
      He pukes up nothing but bile this time, burning his throat viciously but he can’t be bothered to actually go get water or anything to put into his stomach. Attempting to eat food was pointless, none of it would stay down before Hanzo’s self hatred or his withdrawal would force it back down. He was on a liquid diet, if anything at all.  
      The mantra gets louder.  
      Stupid, worthless, fucking waste of time.  
      Over and over.  
      He wants it to stop, but he agrees with every word. The mantra that had started on day three has only gotten louder, and more convoluted with each passing day that Hanzo did not work to resolve his problems with Jesse.  
      He had no business bothering them any longer. He shouldn’t dare waste any more of Genji’s time, for all the amazing things he had done for them.  
      He fumbles for the knife he neatly tucked under his mattress, one of the few spots Genji had missed after one of the many incidents last week.  
      He intends to do more, but he isn’t strong enough at this late of an hour and with such little energy in his system. The stream of blood he expected is hardly a dribble, soaking into his nightshirt when he pillowed his head under his arm.  
      He’d probably be hearing something about that from Genji tomorrow. He has barely enough sense to tuck the knife back under the bed before sleep finally, graciously, overtakes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day. I'm crying. You're crying. Hanzo's kinda crying. Jesse McCree is sleeping but if he knew half of what the audience does, he'd be crying. 
> 
> Anyways I'm motivated by comments so,,, please actually comment. Did Hanzo's new headspace feel right for his character, as we've seen him in this fic? I'm trying to make him grow and change but still keep him the same yknow? Any comments on how he's handling things, any questions at all please direct them to the comments section.
> 
> Oh and if anyone is interested in beta'ing the last couple chapters lemme know bc I haven't properly edited since like,,, ch 2. 
> 
> Thanks yall


	9. Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally talk. It hurts.

     Breakfast was not precisely the most pleasant time of the day for Hanzo. It was the only meal of the day in which every member gathered to eat together and truly feel like a family. Which is precisely the same reason that Hanzo disliked it. He was growing to love his teammates, even some of the louder ones, but there was still too many people and too many expectations that came with a group breakfast.  
     Things hadn’t exactly been going well. Breakfast was passing by slowly, as he stares down at the bowl of oatmeal in front of him. It had been a courtesy of Dr. Ziegler, in her search for foods that didn’t offend his stomach. It smelled sweet and looked almost appetizing, but just the thought of the texture of it in his mouth made him want to gag.   
     Jesse was still repeating the mantra in the back of his mind. Quieter now than it had been last night, but still burning through the back of his skull. But, other than that, it seemed like breakfast would pass relatively uneventfully, even as Genji was giving him the saddest look as he pushed the bowl of oatmeal back slightly so the smell would stop cloying up his nose.   
     Then everything shattered as Jesse McCree himself entered the room. Just the sight of him turned up the volume of the mantra, pounding at the back of his skull insistently.   
     “Worthless, stupid, fucking _waste of time_.” The mantra growled in the back of his mind, the continual sound bits loud and echoing against his skull as Jesse hobbled to the table.   
     He looked down at that unpalatable oatmeal instead of making eye contact with Jesse. Tears were already threatening to burst from his eyes, a sorry show of his weakness and how absolutely pathetic he was. He could not handle the situation properly, but he did not spend all those hours mediating with Zenyatta to not be able to handle this. He was fine, he was safe he was -  
     “A _fucking lost cause_.”  
     He honest to god whimpered. In the middle of the Gibraltar Cafeteria, surrounded by all of the people he worked so hard to befriend and earn the basic respect of. The sound is choked off, gone as quickly as it came, but it was too late to stop those sitting around him from hearing it. He was useless, a drain on Overwatch and its precious resources.   
     “Hanzo-” Genji began.  
     “Hey, Hanzo,” Jesse spoke in the same instance.  
     Hanzo looked between them, trying desperately to get himself under control before taking a deep breath. He breathed out through his mouth, hoping that the purge of carbon dioxide would somehow carry away his anxiety, or his depression, and everything else that was troubling him as well. But truly, it simply made it possible to keep his voice steady to address Genji. “I am fine, brother. Do not worry, please.” He even managed a small upturn of the corner of his lips, the closest he could get to a smile at this point.  
     He closed his eyes, giving himself just a few moments to collect himself and anchor his mind in this physical moment. This is what all of those hours of meditation had been for. He was here, now, in this chair in the middle of this cafeteria surrounded by people who cared for him. He did not need to anchor himself in the past any longer.   
     Having found some semblance of peace, he turned to Jesse and opened his mouth to address him. He had no idea what may come of the ensuing conversation, but everything was fine, he was fine, this was _fine_ -  
     “Genji, Zenyatta, we have a mission planned for Nepal and we’d like you two to sit on the planning board to guide the mission with your information about the locale,” Winston cut him off, and most of Hanzo’s confidence dissolved on the spot.  
     “Oh? When will the planning board meet, then?” Genji asked, looking at Hanzo.   
     “We were planning on starting it shortly after breakfast,” Winston responded, pushing his glasses up.  
     “Ahh, but I am going to be with Hanzo after breakfast,” Genji explained.   
     He was holding Genji back. Through his selfish actions he has held Genji back and wasted his time. “I am sorry,” he whispered, looking down at his hands nervously.  
     “I’ll stay with him,” Jesse offered. “I’m on medical rest anyways, so I’ve got nothing to do. It would be no trouble.”  
     “...That would be very helpful, Jesse,” Genji began, but still he looked at Hanzo for his approval.  
     What was he to do? Saying no was simply not an option, at this point. He could not continue to hold back Overwatch at this point, could not hold Genji back any longer.   
     “That will be fine,” he says, and his voice actually sounds convincingly confident. Genji smiles at him and nods. “Then I will certainly attend. Master, will you be joining us?”   
     “Yes, I will attend.”  
     Hanzo managed to smile once more, looking forward towards Jesse.  
     How was he going to handle this situation?  
     He still had a few minutes to prepare himself, as the rest of the heroes finished up their breakfasts and Genji downed the rest of his tea. He was going to be an adult about this, he was going to use all the strategies Zenyatta and Dr. Ziegler had taught him and they were going to handle this properly.  
     Too soon, Genji was standing up and looking to Hanzo for one last look of assurance. How kind his little brother had become, he mused as he nodded to him and waved him off with one of his now signature almost-smiles.  
     He’s still nervous, but he wants to make it work. He doesn’t want to be sad or heartbroken any longer, doesn’t want to wallow in it because the longer he held onto his depression, the more of an inconvenience he will be when he was really supposed to be out there trying to help the world.  
     He was going to handle this like a man.  
     Jesse looked at him, like he really could not find a way to phrase what was on his mind. He opened his mouth a few times to speak, and then he closed it again as the words eluded him. It served only to raise Hanzo’s anxiety with each passing moment, feeling the tension build within him as his mind attempted to piece together the things that Jesse might be wanting to say to him, after spending a long two weeks apart and after their fight.   
     “I am sorry,” Hanzo blurted out, unable to simply wait for the other man to start the conversation any longer and needing to get everything off of his chest. “I could not stand the thought of being a disappointment to you and the rest of the team, after all you did to help me get my life under control. I could not let you see me go through withdrawals, I could not worry you over my own petty issues.” He explained, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up years ago.  
     “Ah, Hanzo, you don’t really gotta -” Jesse began, but Hanzo cut him off.  
     “I do! I lied to you to spare you from pain and myself from embarrassment, and I should not have done that. Addiction is hard, but that is no excuse to waste your time.” He responded, even to the tune of the mantra screaming at him.   
     “Hanzo, I wanted to apologize to you, as well.” Jesse interjected, before Hanzo could continue. “I...I couldn’t stop thinking about what I said and how I reacted. It haunted me, I couldn’t think of anything else because I regretted them as soon as the anger dissolved.” Jesse looked down at his hands for a long moment before looking back up and continuing his apology. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, and I apologize for that. But with every apology, there needs to be an explanation for why it happened. Seein’ you drunk like that on such a special night, it brought me back to another time and place. I told you a long time ago that I watched my mentor struggle with his alcoholism, yeah?”  
     Hanzo nodded deftly, remembering that particular morning quite clearly. He had always expected Jesse to explain it in more detail, but that time never came. Perhaps now he would get the answers that his curious mind sought.  
     “I watched him cycle through with his addiction for years. Again and again, he’d promise that he was clean. He’d make all sorts of plans for what he’d do when he’d be completely sober. He’d get all of us, his recruits and his teammates, excited for it only to fall off the wagon harder than ever. He was such a sad drunk. He’d sit there for hours, lamenting it all. Talkin’ about how things had gotten so messed up over the years.” Jesse shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Every time he started drinkin’ again, it’d get worse. He’d lose motivation to do anything but drink and sit in his office. It broke my heart so see him like that. I saw you that night, and in the moment, all I could think of was his sad eyes, set so deep into his face with exhaustion.”  
     Hanzo bit his lip, looking down at his hands instead of making any more eye contact. “I can only imagine how that might have affected you.” He responds, voice soft and small because he was still trying to process all of it.  
     “Yeah, it wasn’t a pretty situation. But, I thought I had handled all of my demons regardin’ Gabe. But, instead I had a snap reaction and I hurt you. I apologize for that, because I set you back instead of helping you through it.”  
     “I forgive you, Jesse.” Hanzo responded, smiling at him as best as he could manage. “I apologize for everything I did that night, and before that. But, I have been sober ever since. I hope that you can forgive me for the emotional toil I have put you through.” He added.  
     “Ahh, Hanzo, I don’t hold any of that against you, but I forgive ya’ anyways. I’m very proud of you for goin’ sober, I know how hard that can be. Genji told me a few things.”   
Hanzo opened his mouth to respond just as a wave of nausea rolled over him, cutting him off with the urge to gag.   
     He’s moving before he can even register it, bent over one of the garbage cans puking bile as Jesse hobbled his way over.  
     “Is it okay if I touch ya, darlin’?” Jesse asked, reaching out with his hand just hovering over his back.  
     He nods deftly, a moment of clarity before the nausea returns in a fresh wave.   
     One of Jesse’s hands rubs along his back while the other holds back his hair, and even now, leaning against a trash can filled with awful smelling foods (as discarded by the rest of the team) with no food in his stomach, he could genuinely say he felt better and lighter than he had in weeks.  
     Who would have thought that a simple adult conversation he had been dreading for so long could go so well?  
     He rises after a few minutes, smiling genuinely at Jesse as he thanks him.   
     “So, would you like to talk some more or would you like to continue our movie playlist? I think we left off with High Plains Drifter…” Jesse offered, and Hanzo genuinely found himself laughing.  
     Only Jesse would find a way to drop in an offer to watch one of his old Clint Eastwood movies, after such a heavy conversation.  
     “I’m afraid I must decline, for now. My tomatoes are ready for picking. Perhaps you could join me in the garden, then after we can watch one of my old favorites. Tell me, Jesse, have you heard of The Lord of the Rings?” Hanzo responded, wondering idly which bathrooms were between the cafeteria and the garden so he could wash up.  
     “No, sir, I don’t believe I have. Sound’s like a mighty fine proposition, though, if I do say so myself.” Jesse responded, tipping his hat lightly in Hanzo’s direction.   
     Hanzo grinned, mood soaring. He wondered if it was going to be possible to rope some of their other teammates into a marathon of the trilogy. Genji would agree, immediately. It had always been one of their favorite trilogies, the digital copies treasured and played again and again when they were children.  
     The sun was shining on this new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy yall. First and foremost I wanna thank my new beta, kayydee! Super helpful and kind, and totally instrumental to writing this chapter!
> 
> Anyways this fic is rly coming to its end yall! I want to hear all of your responses about the course of the fic and how the ending is going, as well as hearing everything you have to say about this chapter!


	10. Smiles & Sunshine - Epilogue

     The road to recovery is often a very indirect route. Filled with detours, setbacks, and traffic, it eats at time and induces suffering before anything gets better.   
     But it seems that they were finally at the end, in a place where Hanzo felt safe enough to call himself a “former alcoholic.”  
     That’s right.   
     As of yesterday, Hanzo proclaimed himself sober for nine months. He carries the small metal “Nine Months Sober” coin on him at all times, vital to keeping him motivated and moving forward in his life.  
     He’s going on his first mission tomorrow. A small escort mission on King’s Row, just to get him back into the swing of things. His teammates for that mission will be none other than Jesse, Genji, Zenyatta, Reinhardt and D.Va. All handpicked during a vital meeting with the Soldier, attempting to get a team composition that would support Hanzo emotionally and still be capable at handling the mission with ease.   
     He is excited. He’s sitting in the living room, waiting on Jesse to finish his follow up exam with Dr. Ziegler so that they may go to the practice range together.  
     Yes, there was a bit of a development in that situation, too.  
     About a month after Jesse’s return, Hanzo tentatively agreed to start dating him again. Slow and sweet, punctuated by dates in which one of them would cook and the other would learn recipes or traditions. These became a main staple, not only for their relationships, but for the team’s efforts in getting Hanzo to gain back some weight.   
     Hanzo is less emotionally reliant on Jesse now, too. The support of Genji, Zenyatta, and the good doctor have helped Hanzo stand on his own two feet and help himself when things are getting tough, such as when his paranoia comes back to kick him in the ass.  
     As it occasionally does.   
     Needless to say, things aren’t _perfect_ , but they’re better.   
     And better comes in, in the smiles of his teammates as they enter the living room. Bearing cakes, sweets, and music with them.  
     He’s pleasantly shocked, standing to greet them as the entirety of the Overwatch team enters.   
     “What is all of this?” He asks, a wide smile on his face.  
     “Ah…” Genji began, but Lucio cut him off.  
     “We just had to celebrate your first mission, after all!” The man explained, placing down the oversized, vintage stereo Hanzo is sure he dug up from the old storage units in the Watchpoint.  
     “Congratulations!” Hana sang, leaning against her best friend and smiling wide at him. So supportive, despite all that she’s been through. Hanzo knows he is eternally grateful for how kind those kids are.   
     “We brought yer’ favorites,” Jesse added, brandishing a frosted cake decorated generously with whipped cream and strawberries.  
     “We hope it’s not too much for you, but we just really wanted to do something nice.” Dr. Ziegler explained, looking both hopeful and worried at the same time.   
     Hanzo laughed, surprisingly loud by his own standards. “I am grateful. Thank you all for doing such kind things.”  
     “It’s no problem, Hanzo.” The Soldier chimed in, attention torn between the cheerful conversation and slicing open a particularly delectable looking chocolate cake.   
     Genji appeared at his side, face plate off in favor of beaming down at his older brother. “I think this means we’ve really become a family, you know,” He explained, pointing to all the people interacting to set up their party.  
     “I’m...very glad to be apart of this family. Just seeing all of us together brings me unspeakable joy…”  
     Jesse came over to them, brandishing a slice of that strawberry cake.   
     “I was hopin’ you’d try this...I made it myself, after Genji told me that you had quite the taste for strawberries…”  
     Hanzo grinned, and took the plate without comment. He used the fork to grab a large bite, bringing it towards his lips…  
     Only to fling it towards Jesse, smearing whipped cream into his beard.  
     The whole room paused for a moment, before exploding with laughter.  
     “Oh, yer’ gonna pay...Come ‘ere darlin’, I think you’re due for a kiss.”  
     And so that was how Hanzo ended up half hidden behind Ms. Amari, while she was giving Jesse that stern disapproving look she had in her arsenal.  
     “Come out ‘ere and face me like a man, Han. Ma’ can’t hide you forever,” Jesse threatened.  
     Somehow, going out there and being smothered in whipped cream sounded like just what he needed today...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! There's that happy ending I promised yall!! I just wanted to thank my wonderful beta, kayy-dee for everything they've done for me! You're wonderful dear! 
> 
> This is it yall. If you've made it this far, please leave a comment and let me know what you think! And thanks for waiting for the last chapter, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to hurt before it gets better.


End file.
